Assassin's Creed: Prestige
by sup3rsharpie
Summary: New York - 1900 Growing up poor on the gritty streets of an ever evolving New York, Arman Adler becomes thrust into the eternal struggle between the Assassins and Templars. Following the mysterious death of his father, Arman combines his deceiving illusions with the lethal skills of a master assassin while seeking answers surrounding the historical conspiracy.
1. Chapter 1: Roommates

**Assassin's Creed: Prestige **

**Prologue**

To: Morgan Benningfield

From: Alexander DeBlanc

Date: 23 August 2014

Subject: Classified

On the 18th of July in 2014 an elite team of expert assassins attempted to infiltrate the Abstergo Entertainment offices of Montreal, Quebec. Allegedly, they had intentions to destroy the cloud database servers along with all remaining DNA samples of the Sample 17 project. The mission was aborted when a silent alarm was triggered, attracting unwanted attention of all security personnel. Three of the five assassins managed to escape the premises but refused to return to their superiors due to the zero tolerance failure of their mission and fled the country in search of another plan to demolish the Templar giant. The following is a collection of classified entries recovered from the journal of assassin Logan Breen. Reproduction or distribution of this document or any entry under any circumstance is strictly prohibited and is subject to immediate prosecution. You have been warned.

**Chapter One (Act I): Room Mates **

Date: 21 July 2014

"Logan. Logan wake up! I think we found a place!", I heard a woman's voice whisper as I felt a cold hand shake me gently on the shoulder. I lazily opened my tired eyes and saw Annora's smiling face staring back at me. She sat in the passenger seat next to Lio as he steadily drove the van.

"We did? Great. How long was I out?", I asked as I yawned and rubbed the sleep from my eye.

"Almost two hours, sleeping beauty", Lio mockingly replied. The clock on the stereo read 9:43 PM.

"Well it isn't my fault writing in this journal is so boring, okay?", I said as I stretched my legs in the cramped back of the van. It was hard to get comfortable next to the bulky animus taking up much of the space.

"I know it sucks but you have to, alright? I don't need another one of my friends lost to the Bleeding Effect. It helps keep your mind under control. Trust me.", Annora sternly said. "Besides, if you weren't complaining about that, you'd be complaining about something else anyway.", she added. Although at times it would get on my nerves, it was relieving to know she cared. On a first impression, Annora doesn't seem like the type of person to get attached to anything easily. Her tough as nails attitude and her love of getting her hands dirty on any type of mission can be misleading and her appearance doesn't say any different, but at her core she can be incredibly compassionate and over protective of those who are close to her.

"I'm just playing with you. I know you're looking out for me. I'd do anything to stop myself from ending up like _him_ anyway. Not exactly the way I want to go out from this world.", I said. "So how far are we from Chicago?", I asked as I squeezed between the seats. The moon sat brightly in the clear night sky. The passing street lights radiated an ambient glow inside the van.

"About forty five minutes from the downtown center with light traffic.", answered Lio as he took a sip from his soda and gave out a light burp. For an assassin, Lio wasn't exactly the lightest person on the team. Although his appearance and attitude came off as a jobless dead beat who sits at home playing online games all day (which I'm sure can't be far from the truth), his impeccable smarts are essential for the brotherhood to function properly. At times I would joke that he's our one man tech personnel because of how educated he is on anything electrical. He's rarely seen without some sort of phone or hand held device dismantled in front of him. Constantly trying to understand how things work and always looking at different ways to improve his equipment.

"There's an abandoned apartment complex a few blocks down. It'll have to do for the night.", he said.

I sat back on the floor of the van and rested my head against the back of the animus.

"I guess it's better than staying in here the whole night.", I said while letting out a sigh.

The road became rough and full of pot holes. Lio swore under his breath as he hit a couple. Fortunately for us, the complex was fitted with a small public garage that rested under the building. Hopefully that would prevent any unwanted attention from law enforcement. Lio pulled the van into a corner parking space. I opened the back doors and hopped out. The garage that once held the cars of tenants now lay in a crumbling mess. Weeds poked through the cracks of the concrete and litter had congregated in scattered piles throughout the lot. It smelled of cigarettes and sewage.

"Home sweet home, huh guys?", Lio said with a chuckle. Annora kicked a crumpled beer can that sat at her feet. The metal hit with a 'ting' that echoed across the garage.

"You know, I wasn't really regretting ditching everyone at the base until now.", she said dissatisfied. Silently, I agreed with her. I grabbed my navy blue hoodie that drooped over the animus chair and quickly put it on. A thick yellow stripe ran up the left side with a small embroidered dark red assassin crest laying over my right pectoral. My favorite. Lio pressed the elevator call button. Nothing.

"Looks like were walking.", He said while pulling out his flashlight. He and Annora stood in front of the stairway door. I approached them while still adjusting my jacket. Lio handed me the flashlight.

"Ladies first.", he said and gave a cheeky grin.

"Very funny." I said and snatched the flashlight from his hand. The light flickered as I turned it on. The garage looked even more disgusting illuminated. Spider webs adorned the corners and cracks. Broken glass shimmered on the ground. I turned back to the door and reached for the handle. I slowly pushed my way in. The door let out an unsettling squeal. The interior fared no better than what we had already seen. The stairwell appeared as though it was ready to collapse. A rusty pipe dripped a small puddle at the foot of the steps. More garbage and beer bottles lined the walls. Graffiti had been scribbled across most of the surface of the stairwell. We made our way up the crumbling concrete steps. After what seemed to be about three minutes of stair climbing, we reached the top floor. I opened another rusty door. The hallway was in complete dismay. The former white walls had begun to change color along with the muddy brown carpet. The only window at the end of the hall had been shattered. None of us said a word but I knew we had to be thinking the same thing. Even someone as nasty as Lio would be overwhelmed by such a pig sty. We continued down the hall taking notice of each apartment.

"Well, which one?", I asked as I shone the light on my companions.

"Lets try this one.", Lio said pointing to the door on his left. A rusted number twenty three hung under the peephole.

"I don't know guys, what if we drive a little farther, maybe there's a warehouse or something.", Annora whispered with her hand over her nose and mouth.

"Time isn't exactly on our side tonight, Ann.", Lio said. "We're just going to have to make due with what we got. Now lemme get this door open.", he said as he took a couple steps back. I stayed silent as I watched him forcefully kick the lock open. The wood gave way and the door swung open with a loud WHUMP. Immediately the stench of the room ran up my nose. I gagged as I pulled the collar of my hoodie over my face. I aimed the light into the room. Furniture lay strewn across the floor. Dust had settled on everything in sight. The ceiling had buckled just off the right of the living room most likely due to water leakage evident by the light drips that poured out in a timely fashion. It reeked of mold. I could swear I saw a cockroach scurry under the torn carpet. None of us dare set foot inside. Annora stepped back and shook her head, hand still over her nose. I looked around for another room. As I shone the light around the hall, something caught my eye. A glimmer coming from the last door on the right. I made my way over only to be greeted by a small wooden plaque that hung crooked under the room's number, twenty eight. The glimmer came from the tiny green gem attached to the top of it. I brushed off the dust with my hand and read the faded words aloud.

"God bless our home.", it read. The door was already open just a crack. I peered inside to be sure it wasn't already occupied. Nothing moved or made a sound. I cautiously opened the door a bit.

"Guys! Guys check this out!", I loudly whispered to Annora and Lio who were exploring other rooms. They hurried over to me as I pushed the door the rest of the way open. The condition of the interior was a huge relief. The living room was bare, only containing a couple folding chairs leaned up against the back wall. The carpet was still intact and didn't have a pungent odor. The ceiling was free of any buckling and drips. I stepped inside. The bedroom door was boarded up and nailed shut. Figuring somebody did it for a reason, I decided to leave it alone. Inside the bathroom, it appeared a struggle had taken place. Shards of glass from the mirror glittered the sink and floor. The shower curtain was torn and dangling by only a couple hooks. I tried the faucet. A dark brown murky liquid oozed out and down the drain briefly before stopping.

"Ugh. Looks like it's still bottled water for us.", I quietly said to myself. I went back to the living room. Annora was examining the remains of the kitchen while Lio was checking out the view through the window.

"Let's set up shop here. I don't think we're gonna find a better place any time soon.", I said.

"Yep. Lets start unloading the van. Hope you liked climbing those stairs 'cause we get to do it all over again with an animus.", said Lio.

"I can't wait.", I sarcastically replied and exited the apartment. It took what seemed like an eternity to get everything up and running. Three generators powered the animus, a couple laptops, and a few lights we brought with us. The apartment now looked like a make shift laboratory.

"I hope the boss doesn't mind that we 'borrowed' Logan's old animus. I'm going to have a field day upgrading this thing.", Lio said while taking a seat in one of the folding chairs.

"He'll get over it. You know how he is. Here Logan, I grabbed these from the glove compartment.", Annora said handing me a pair of concealed wrist blades. Although I was skilled in hand to hand combat, I didn't yet feel comfortable using my hidden blades for any real fight. However, in this case, it would be better to have some kind of weapon. Better safe than sorry.

"Thanks.", I said as I smiled and took the blades from her hands. I attached the Velcro straps around my forearms and rolled my sleeves over the silver blades, concealing them perfectly.

"Alright, Logan. I've got some good news and some bad news. Which would you like first?", Lio said as he typed vigorously on his laptop.

"I don't like the sound of that. Gimmie the good.", I replied while peering over his shoulder at his work.

"Well, your DNA is showing a positive for an ancestor right around the early 1900's. A man they called Arman Adler. From what I gather, he was a very successful magician in New York and worked closely with Houdini. But at some point right around the late 1930's, he poof'ed out of the spotlight. No pun intended.", he explained.

"So how does a magician help us? What, will he make the Templars disappear?", I joked.

Lio turned and looked me straight in the eye.

"He was an assassin as well. And my research is showing that he met with Henry Ford and Thomas Edison at one point. The founders of Abstergo. He could be the answer.", he said with a serious tone. A nervous shiver shook my spine. Could a relative of mine really be the key to the origins of Abstergo? It seemed too easy. There had to be a catch.

"So what's the bad news?", I hesitantly asked.

"You're not going to like it. Even though I can upgrade the firmware on the animus, it's going to take some time. More than we have. And unfortunately for us, we have an older model which means -", I cut him off before he could finish.

"Which means I'm going to have to start in his childhood and work my way there. Awesome.", I said letting out a deep breath.

"Now don't get your panties in a bunch, princess.", he went on. "There's more good news. I've located some weaker, unusable DNA strands that the animus will allow us to skip over without any serious repercussions. From start to finish, all major events in his life should take us about four or five hours. Give or take. If we work through the night without issue and minimal breaks, we should be done by sunrise.", The thought of spending five consecutive hours in the animus frightened me. I didn't want to put anymore strain on my body than I already have. Although I kept it to myself, I think Annora could sense my concern.

"Don't worry, Logan. I'll pull you out of his memories periodically for some rest. And don't forget to log all of this in your journal. We don't want to take any chances.", she said assuredly and set my journal on the table next to the animus.

"I guess I don't have much of a choice, huh? I've already seen ancient Egypt, Victorian London, the French revolution and the wild west. 1900's New York can't be too bad, can it?", I asked hypothetically.

"We're about to find out, have a seat and we'll get started.", answered Lio gesturing me to sit in the chair. As I leaned back in the animus, I felt an unshakable feeling of anxiety. Something I don't normally feel during sessions. But this was different. I tried to clear my mind by focusing on the detail of the busted ceiling fan in the room. I put my right arm in the scanner that bleeped as it powered up.

"Don't forget, just because you're in a session doesn't mean we can't still communicate with each other. I'll shoot you some advice should you need it as I monitor your progress. Let us know if anything goes wrong in there.", Lio explained carefully. I wanted to say something, anything meaningful. What if something does go wrong? What if my Bleeding Effect symptoms worsen? What will we do when this is over? But all I could manage to say was, "gotcha."

"Are you ready?", he asked.

"Do it.", I said and closed my eyes.

What happened next was unimaginable.


	2. Chapter 2: Bullies

**Chapter Two: Bullies**

Date: 19 August 1900 (9 years old)

When I opened my eyes, I came face to face with a morphed reality. The sky streaked a blood red, buildings appeared to be floating and shape shifting around in a large empty space. Everything shimmered and spasm-ed. Nothing could be distinguished clearly. Colors flourished in every direction and the ground resembled shattered glass. I felt as though I had entered a terrible fever dream. Voices whispered in my ears. I couldn't understand a word they spoke. Gun shots and the clanging of metal rang through my head. Faces of individuals flashed before me. Male, female, children and elderly of all kind. I could feel sweat racing down my neck. I grabbed my head and screamed out of sheer terror. Suddenly I had become over swept by waves of emotion. Sadness, anger, happiness, and fear all colliding in my brain at once. This was too much.

"Shit, hang in there, Logan! The animus is having a rough time finding a good enough starting point.", I heard a voice echo throughout the nightmare that was occurring in front of me. Who was that? Who is Logan? What's an animus? Wait. Logan. That's me. I tried to hold onto my only conceivable thought as long as possible. Suddenly, a blinding flash of white accompanied by a booming whooshing sound engulfed me as everything went black.

"Arman! Wake up, Sweetie or you'll be late for school!", a woman's gentle voice broke the still silence followed by the creaking of a wooden door.

"I've already made breakfast for you, come and enjoy it before it goes cold again.", she said as she stood in the door way with a hand still grasping the knob. She wore a white long sleeved shirt with a light blue skirt. A stained green apron hung over her outfit. A child lay on the bed before her, hiding his face. She walked over to his bed and sat softly on the edge.

"It's those boys again, isn't it?", she quietly asked while slowly stroking his dark brown hair.

"Nobody likes me. I hate school!", the boy said harshly into his pillow.

"Darling, they just haven't gotten to know the real you yet. Everything will be fine, trust me.", she said sweetly and gave him a kiss on the head. The boy sat up in his bed now, his hair a mess. He sobbed softly into his hands as the woman held him close to her chest.

"Nobody wants to know me because I'm poor. They all think I'm stupid.", he wept.

"Sylvia? Is everything all right in here?", a tall man loudly asked entering the room. He wore a dirty white shirt with black suspenders. His gray pants were spotted with a chalky dust and various colors of paint. A pair of dirty old black work boots were on his feet. He was very masculine. A light stubble lined his mouth while a tattered flat cap sat atop his head. His attention was immediately drawn to the sobbing boy.

"Hey, what's the matter, Champ?" he asked concernedly as he knelt down at the foot of the bed.

"Oh, you know how boys can be, William. Children are so mean these days I swear.", Sylvia said.

"Those guys pickin' on you again?" he asked. The boy nodded with tears in his eyes.

"Well, you know something? With out people doing jobs like mine, their daddies wouldn't have no place to work so the next time they're messin' with you, just remember that.", he said and tousled the boy's hair around. He took his hat off his head and placed it on the child's.

"Keep it. 'Bout time I get a new one anyway.", he said as he cracked a smile. The boy's frown became a delighted grin as he touched his father's gift. Taken by surprise, the man let out an "oomph!" as he was greeted by a sudden hug.

"I had that dream again, Daddy!", the boy excitedly said looking him in the eye

"The magician one?", he asked curiously.

"Yeah! This time I had a bunny named Cleo! She was white with big black spots and pointy ears! When I get famous, that's the kind of bunny I'm gonna get!" he exclaimed. His father let out a gentle laugh.

"Listen, when you get famous, I want front row seats to each show so I can clearly see Miss Cleo, okay?", he said as he stood up.

"I have a short day at work today so when you get home, we'll have us a game of catch outside, alright?", he promised. The boy nodded happily. The man kissed Sylvia on the head and wished both of them a good day as he left the apartment.

"Your meal is waiting. Get dressed and wash your face. I'll get your bag ready.", his mother said as she left the room. As Arman threw his gray button down shirt and raggedy brown pants on, his mind explored the possibility of someday becoming a famous magician. The booming crowd would cheer as he entered the stage, the illusions would be unreal and unlike anything anybody had ever seen. Cleo would be at his side with his mother and father in the front row. He would give anything to make it a reality. But for now, it was time for breakfast.

He sat at the kitchen table poking his fork at his beans.

"Arman Vernon Adler. Don't just play with your food. Eat it. We don't waste anything in this household.", his mother sternly said as she set his worn canvas shoulder bag in front of him.

"I'm sick of beans all the time for breakfast.", he muttered with distaste.

"Well that's all that there is. I've packed you a ham sandwich for lunch so you'll have that to look forward to.", she stated as she handed him a brown paper bag. Figuring there was no way around it, Arman forced the beans into his stomach and slung his bag over his shoulder after hugging his mother goodbye. He headed down the creaky wooden staircase and out of the apartment complex. The golden sunlight drenched Arman in it's comforting warmth as he set foot onto the concrete sidewalk. The street was filled with people performing their daily routines. Horses pulling carriages clicked and clattered their way down the road. Sounds of barking dogs echoed through the town. The day was beautiful. Wanting to enjoy the wonderful weather a little longer, Arman deviated from his usual route to school. He decided to pass through a street he had never been down before. This one was less crowded. Shop owners all around were busy setting up for a long day. Some whistled as they worked. Quickly becoming uninterested with his newly discovered path, Arman decided it was enough site seeing for one morning and promptly headed in the direction of the school. As he turned, a small strange store across the road caught his eye. 'Martinka & Company' the sign read. But the words weren't what grabbed his attention. A detailed picture of a mustached man in a suit holding a wand in his right hand and a top hat in his left hung in the window. Around him swirled an array of musical instruments, playing cards, and mystical looking creatures. 'Headquarters of Magicians of America' it read above the mysterious man. Temptation tugged at Arman to head inside but realizing how late he was for class, it had to wait.

Arman scampered up the stairs to the red brick school house. It was clear that class was already in session. He briskly walked through the hall to his classroom. Mrs. Lindel was already fifteen minutes into her daily history lesson as Arman silently entered the room. Mrs. Lindel peered up from her oversized book and removed her glasses. A ghostly chill crept through Arman as he felt his throat become dry. He could feel his classmates glare all over him.

"Late again, Mr. Adler? How surprising.", she sarcastically stated. "Please take your seat and open your history book to chapter twenty three. We were just discussing the American Revolution." she said. Arman awkwardly made his way to his desk in the back of the room. Some students snickered as he passed. His gaze was focused at the ground, avoiding all eye contact. He dropped his bag next to his desk and opened his heavy text book. Mrs. Lindel continued on with her routine.

"Nice hat, loser.", a seemingly older freckled boy whispered to Arman on his left.

"Yeah, where did you get it? The trash?", a smaller blonde boy sneered on his right.

Arman tried with all his might to stay focused on his book. He felt a lump form in his throat as he fought back tears. To cry now would mean endless torment from his bullies. He drowned out the quiet insults with thoughts of his future. Performing impossible feats of all kinds for every type of person. The fancy clothes that would cloak him. The loving fans that would travel the globe just to see his show. Then he wouldn't have to eat beans for breakfast every day. Mother and father would be so proud of his accomplished fame. Just then he remembered the mysterious store from earlier. Excitement spiked through his body. He couldn't wait to tell father. Perhaps he would come with and see it for himself! Suddenly Mrs. Lindel's voice ruined his train of thought.

"Mr. Adler!" she loudly said causing him to jump in his seat.

"Now that I finally have your attention, can you tell me the answer to my question?", she asked impatiently. Arman froze. He had become so entranced in his thoughts that he had missed the whole lesson. His mind went blank.

"Fifteen times seven, Mr. Adler. Solve it.", she ordered. Instinctively, Arman blurted the answer.

"A hundred and five!" he said loudly. After a moment of silence, the teacher spoke.

"Correct. Class dismissed. Return your math books to the shelf please. I expect an improvement in your behavior starting tomorrow, Mr. Adler.", she demanded as she sat at her desk and began writing. The children gathered their belongings and headed out the exit. Arman looked down at his desk. His history book stared back at him.

He packed his things and left the school house, relieved the day was over. He walked faster than usual, excited to share his news with father. Suddenly, the two classroom bullies popped out of a nearby bush accompanied by another older boy whom Arman had never seen before. He stood completely still, afraid of what was bound to happen. The freckled one snatched his hat from his head and put it on his own.

"Look at me guys, I'm a poor kid now!" he shouted as the other boys laughed hysterically. The new boy shoved Arman around.

"Really? You don't smell like one!" he mocked. The trio laughed louder. Arman kept his balance and continued staring at the sidewalk. Tears welled up in his eyes. The awful lump in his throat returned.

"Hey! The poor kid's going to cry!", the smaller child yelled as he pointed in Arman's face.

"What's the matter, poor kid? Can't afford to be happy?" the freckled one teased.

Arman felt adrenaline surge up his spine as he squeezed his fists. He clenched his teeth as hard as he could. Warm tears dripped from his cheeks.

"Poor kid! Poor kid!", the bullies chanted rhythmically. The freckled boy leaned in close to Arman's face.

"Something wrong, poor kid?", he evilly asked with a toothy grin spread wide across his pig like face. His breath smelled vile. Unexpectedly, Arman thrust his fist deep into the bully's gut. He doubled over letting out a winded gasp. The other boys stood stunned, their mouths agape. Arman swiftly retrieved his hat from the child's head and darted across the street.

"Get 'em!", one of them shouted. Arman charged down the side walk weaving between pedestrians.

"Slow down kid!", a middle aged man shouted as he pushed passed. He turned down an alley to catch his breath. Did he lose them? Unsure of what to do next, he peered around the corner. Not a child in sight. He rested against the brick building and slid onto the ground, panting heavily.

"There he is! I found him!", Arman heard a voice shout across the street. They spotted him. He picked himself up and bolted down the alley as fast as he could. He hooked a sharp left and stopped in a sudden realization. _The street from earlier!_ he thought to himself. He teared through the busy sidewalk.

"It's gotta be here somewhere!" he said in a panic.

"Whattya lookin' for in such a hurry, kid?", a suited man carrying a rolled up news paper asked. Arman scanned through his mind for the name of the shop. What was it? Frantically, he responded.

"The magic store!" he said between short breaths.

"Oh, that old place? Right on the corner to the left.", the man pointed to the sign. Arman raced off without any further reply; the bullies were in hot pursuit.

He could see the shop's door in sight now. Just a little further.

"I think he went this way!", he heard close behind him. He reached for the door and swung it open. A small bell jingled over head. He shut himself inside and crouched behind a shelf, desperately trying to catch his breath.

"He was just here! Where could he have gone?!", the older boy shouted as the terrible trio rounded the street corner. The coast was clear for now. Arman exhaled as he examined his surroundings. The shop was small but neatly packed with many different kinds of illusions, costumes, and prank gags. Arman became infatuated with the overwhelming amount of magic supplies. He carefully inspected every shelf, not wanting to miss any of the strange items.

"Need help finding anything, Son?", a booming male voice surprised Arman. Two men stood at the register near the back of the store. The older looking man had little hair atop his head and a bushy handlebar mustache on his face. He leaned on the counter casually behind the register. The other man wore a clean black suit with a black neck tie. His short, wavy hair lay neatly combed in a centered part across his head. They both stared at Arman, awaiting a reply.

"N-no sir.", he stammered.

"Well, you let me know if you need anything.", he said and returned to his conversation with the suited man. Curious, Arman carefully approached them.

"E-excuse me.", he nervously tapped on the suited man's leg.

"Yes sir, what is it?", the man asked leaning down to Arman's level. The man spoke slowly and clearly. His voice carried an accent he had never heard before. It sounded silly to him. Arman smiled ecstatically.

"Are you a magician?", he asked hopefully. The gentlemen glanced at each other before letting out a roaring laugh.

"Don't you know who this is?!" the mustached man asked in surprise.

"I-I've never seen a magician before. My daddy just tells me stories.", Arman replied feeling a bit stupid.

"Son, this isn't just a magician! This is the one and only Harry Houdini!", he boasted with outstretched arms.

"My daddy never told me about you. I don't think he knows who you are either." Arman said truthfully.

"Well I think today you'll be the one telling your daddy a story. Go ahead, Harry, show him a trick!", mustache man enthusiastically said as he gave Houdini's shoulder a pat. Harry chuckled and bent down so he was eye level with Arman.

"Ah, I know just the one!", he said as he pulled a ring from his finger. Arman couldn't contain his excitement. Finally, a chance to see a real magic trick in person!

"Would you please hold your hand out like so?", Houdini asked with his hand palm side up. Arman complied and did the same. Houdini placed his silver ring in the center of his palm.

"Now, watch.", he whispered as he wriggled his fingers inches above his hand. Arman's eyes fixated on the ring. The ring twitched. Arman's eyes grew wide, did he blink? Was that real? It couldn't be!

It twitched again, and again. Then, slowly and mysteriously, the ring stood up in his palm. Arman gasped. It continued to rise. The shiny ring was now a centimeter above his hand, floating in mid air. It rose higher. Now it sat almost three inches in the air. Arman could see his reflection in it.

Houdini lightly plucked the ring out of the air and put it back on his finger. A confident smile appeared on his face. Arman gaped at him in disbelief. He felt as though he were in a dream.

"I have to tell father!", he exclaimed.

"Go on! We'll be here tomorrow!", the old man insisted as he gestured for him to leave.

Arman turned and hurried out the door and down the street. He ran as far as he could until his body would no longer allow him to. He slowed to a walk. Still in complete awe from the store, he replayed the scene over and over again in his mind. He finally reached his street, much less crowded than it had been earlier that morning. The orange sun had begun to set in the sky. As he walked he examined his palm, pondering how in the world the ring could have left it by itself. All of a sudden, he heard the clattering of running footsteps in front of him. Before he could react, two men clad in long trench coats quickly approached him. One of them forcefully knocked Arman into the wall. His cheek scrapped the brick as a searing pain shot through him. He let out an "Ugh!" as he hit the ground. A metal object landed next to him. The men continued sprinting down the road, paying no mind to the injured Arman that lay sprawled on the sidewalk. He steadily got to his feet, clutching his cheek tightly as he winced. The metal trinket gleamed in the soft sunlight. Arman bent down and retrieved the peculiar object. It shone a bright gold tinge with bizarre symbols engraved across the top. It had a flat cylindrical shape with an angular design around the body. A tiny hole was situated near one the ends. As he investigated the odd item, a drop of blood from Arman's cheek landed on the hole. Suddenly, the object began to emit an eerie glow.

"What the-", before Arman could finish, a small pin protruded from the casing of the trinket and pricked Arman's hand.

"Ah!", he yelped as he dropped the cylinder. The light disappeared and the pin returned inside.

Arman shook away the pain from his hand and stuck the gold cylinder in his bag.

"That was weird.", Arman uttered to himself. To his relief, home was only minutes away.

The familiar wooden staircase in the apartment complex sounded like music to his ears as his foot steps squeaked through the building. He felt glad to be home at last.

"William!", he heard a woman shriek, sending shivers down his spine. Instantly he recognized the voice as his mothers. He panicked as he dashed up the stairs.

"Mommy?!", he called out. Hysterical crying rang through the complex. His heart raced as it pounded against his chest. He stopped dead in his tracks. The apartment had been wrecked. Tables over turned, furniture scattered throughout the living area. Mothers favorite vase had been smashed across the floor. Splatters of blood speckled the walls.

Arman froze.

William laid surrounded in a pool of blood on the carpet. His dirty white shirt had been torn in several places and was now drenched in the blood pouring from his wounds. Sylvia knelt above him, holding him in her arms.

Warm tears stung Arman's eyes as he threw his shoulder bag to one side and rushed to his father.

"Daddy!", he cried loudly as he grabbed at his shirt. He pressed as hard as he could over his wounds, trying with all his might to stop the bleeding. Sylvia grabbed his arm, screaming for him to stop.

"No! Daddy, please get up! Please be okay! Please!", he pleaded as he pulled away from his mother.

William blinked wildly, pushing himself to stay awake.

"Arman.", he wheezed. Blood trickled from his mouth.

"Daddy, please.", Arman whispered back. His fading father softly caressed his cheek. A sudden rush of dizziness quickly swam its way into his head.

"I'm so sorry, Son.", he rasped. He gently rested his head back as Arman watched in horror as his father slipped away. Tears streamed down his face, dripping into the puddles of blood around them. Sylvia again shrieked his name as two police officers quickly entered the apartment, prying the distraught woman away from her husband.

"Daddy, wake up! Daddy!", Arman screamed as he roughly shook his father by his shoulders. The officers returned to yank Arman away, he struggled against them but was encumbered by their strength.

"Daddy!", he called again as he reached for William's lifeless body.

"Let me go! I have to help him!", he hollered as he kicked at one of the officers. He started to feel woozy.

"Let me go! Let me go!", he continued to kick, each time becoming weaker. His vision became blurry, his head swirled with pain. His mother's screams bounced through his head.

"Daddy.", he whimpered as he blacked out in the officer's arms.


	3. Chapter 3: Lady Luck

**Chapter 3: Lady Luck**

Date: 2 April 1907 (16 years old)

"Ladies and gentlemen! Step right up and witness unbelievable magic right before your eyes courtesy of New York's very own, Arman Adler!" Arman shouted among the crowded street corner. He stood behind a make shift table fabricated out of two grungy trash cans and a large plank of dried out wood. His tattered flat cap lay upside down next to a deck of worn out playing cards, a few coins dotted the inside. He wore a clean white shirt tucked into his dark brown trousers. A pair of black suspenders sat tightly over his shoulders.

"I promise you won't leave unsatisfied! Entertainment is my specialty!" he boasted into the crowd.

A tall suited man stepped up to the table. He clenched the handle of a small black briefcase.

"Magic? What kind?", asked the curious man.

"Only the best you'll ever have the pleasure of viewing!", Arman cockily replied. "But first, whom do I have the honor of performing for today?", he asked.

"Samuel, nice to meet you.", he said, offering his hand for a shake.

"Arman, likewise.", Arman said as he accepted the respectful gesture. He reached for his box of old playing cards and spread them out evenly across the table in a perfect flourish.

"Pick a card, any card.", he said loudly. Two more men approached the bench, peering over Samuel's shoulder. He reached for the eight of clubs and gripped it between two fingers.

"The eight of clubs! Perfect! Would you kindly show it to these lovely people to prove that it is indeed a real playing card?". Arman instructed. Samuel did as asked and turned back to the performer. Three more people joined the growing group around the table.

"Now, what I'm about to do is incredible, but I want you to remember the most important thing. It's just a trick.", Arman assured. "Would you please put the card in your hand, face down with your palm up?", Arman politely asked. Samuel again did as he was told. Arman softly placed his hand over Samuel's, covering up the card completely.

"I want you to listen to me very carefully now, okay, Samuel?" Arman said as he looked him in the eye.

"Yeah, sure. I'm listening.", he said, his voice growing a bit nervous.

"I need you to think of any card in the deck. Any at all, it doesn't matter. Don't say it out loud please.", Arman ordered. Samuel cocked his head slightly as he decided on a card. A dense crowd now congregated around the two.

"Okay, I've got one.", he answered after a brief pause.

"Look into my eyes and send it to me. Focus on that card.", Arman urged quietly. Moments passed as the two traded thoughts silently on the busy sidewalk. Suddenly, a woman in the front gasped loudly.

"His hand! It's smoking!", she exclaimed. Samuel glanced at his outstretched hand. To his surprise, a thick puff of white smoke plumed from in between the two's fingers. His jaw dropped. The crowd murmured loudly. Arman removed his hand from Samuel's, never breaking eye contact.

"Is that your card?", He asked as he cracked a cheeky grin. The suited man removed the still face down card and slowly turned it over. The spectators clapped wildly. A red ace of diamonds had taken the eight of clubs place!

"How... How did you do that?", Samuel asked in complete shock. Arman laughed.

"Magic.", he replied as he retrieved his cards and returned them to their dirty box. Without another word, the tall gentleman plopped a few coins in Arman's hat and gave a stuttered goodbye before disappearing into the foot traffic. Arman took notice of the clumps of gray clouds that had quickly taken over the blue sky. Thunder began to rumble.

"Aw, damn." Arman muttered as drops of cool rain began to hit the ground. The large gathering he had created had scattered. People hurried along as the rain moved in. Arman packed up his belongings in his shoulder bag and dismantled the table, storing it safely in a nearby alley.

"I guess that'll have to do it for today." he disappointingly muttered to himself while slinging his pack over his shoulder. He dumped the coins from his hat into his palm and began to count. The change equaled up to just over a dollar. Arman let out a loud sigh and dropped the coins in his pocket.

He kicked a stone along as he sluggishly made his way home. The streets were almost entirely clear of pedestrians aside from a couple running men holding news papers over their heads. Thunder lightly growled in the distance. The beautiful storm set Arman's troubled mind at ease. His thoughts trailed off as they normally would. If only he had enough money for better illusions. Then he could perform at various functions, astounding people with his glorious talent. Then mother wouldn't have to work in a sweat shop anymore. It had been just over a year since the last time he had seen the hallways of his school house. The choice to leave school so early was not an easy one, but it had to happen. Frankly, Arman wasn't particularly bothered with his decision. He could read and write just fine. His math skills were above average as well. Besides, it was the last time he'd ever see those damn bullies again. His surroundings became more familiar as he came closer to home. Arman sighed. Street performances alone would never be able to produce enough coin to purchase any new effects. As much as he wanted to deny it, he knew it was the truth. He needed help, and he knew exactly where he could get it. Arman strutted down a dirty alley. Rats scuttled behind filled trash cans as he passed. Cold rain drops pattered at his shoulders, sending a shiver through his body. He turned right out of the alley. There it was. The same sign sat above the entrance. 'Martinka & Company' it read in too familiar brown letters while noisily swaying in the wet breeze. Arman grew nervous goosebumps along his arms as he watched the store from across the street. He began to remember that fateful day in vivid detail.

Avoiding the store altogether since that day had become second nature to him, but he couldn't stay away from it forever. He swallowed hard and headed inside. The same small bell jingled as the door opened. Everything remained as Arman remembered. The smell, the products, the posters all brought back intense memories. Arman shook them off.

"Can I help you find anything?", a familiar voice asked. The mustached man stood at the counter in the back appearing much older than Arman had recalled.

"Is Mr. Houdini around?", Arman shyly asked as he approached the register.

"He might be. Depends who's asking.", the man answered.

"I-", before Arman could get a word in, the bell jingled. To Arman's surprise, Harry stood in the door way, folding up a soaked umbrella.

"Well speak of the devil.", mustache man said with a snort.

"How are you, Harry?", he asked with a more familiar tone of voice.

"Good, Francis. I see you have a customer.", Harry said as he greeted Arman.

"Actually, this young gentleman was just asking about you.", said Francis.

Arman turned to Harry.

"We met once, a long time ago right here in this store. You showed me an illusion with your ring. You made it float in my hand.", he explained.

Harry raised an eyebrow.

"I perform that particular trick dozens of times a day and I see hundreds of faces a week. I don't recall you, I'm terribly sorry.", Harry said with honesty. "Is there anything I can do for you?", he asked nicely. Arman felt a little hurt for being forgotten.

"Well, I've taken an interest in performing magic myself since then and I was wondering if you could help me out, maybe give me some pointers?", asked Arman.

Harry paused before letting out a laugh.

"I don't give magic classes.", he said. Arman's heart sank.

"But...", he went on.

"If you are as serious as you say you are, I think we might be able to work something out.", he said.

He reached for a pencil and a small slip of paper that lay next to the register.

"Here. Met me at this address at one o'clock tomorrow afternoon. I'll teach you what you want to know.", Harry quickly scribbled on the paper and handed it to Arman. His face lit up like a jack-o-lantern.

"Oh thank you so much, Mr. Houdini! I promise you I will be there.", he said happily. He shook Houdini's hand and thanked Francis before leaving the shop. The rain continued to pour outside. Arman had never felt more relieved.

The walk home seemed endless. Tomorrow couldn't come any faster. Arman knew he would have to keep his mind occupied until then if he had any chance of catching some sleep. He climbed up the complex stairs two at a time until he reached his door. He peeled back the welcome mat revealing a silver key and made his way inside. The lonely apartment sat in still darkness, glowing with each flash of lightning. Arman lit a few candles and placed a kettle of tea on the stove before helping himself to a glass of water from the sink. Just as he entered the living room, Sylvia opened the door. She coughed violently as Arman rushed to her side.

"Are you okay, Mother? Here, sit.", he asked as he helped her into her chair. Her coughing settled as she caught her breath.

"I'm alright, Darling. I just can't rid myself of this damned cold is all.", she said and patted her chest.

"A rather long cold, don't you think?", Arman worriedly asked as he pulled Sylvia's favorite crocheted blanket out of the hallway closet. "You worry me, Mother. I think these past seven years in the sweatshop has finally caught up with you.", he draped the sky blue blanket over Sylvia's lap and plopped down on the old worn out sofa next to her.

"Well there aren't many choices for a woman out there. Maybe some day there will be, but unfortunately for me, this is all I have. How did your magic stand work out?" she quickly changed the subject.

"It went great! For a while anyway, until the rain came.", Arman reached into his pocket and pulled out the change. "Some people were even kind enough to give tips!", he proudly displayed his coins to his mother.

"Oh! Good for you, Sweetie. I'm glad people enjoy your talent. You keep it, you've earned it.", she said, kindly refusing his offer. She began coughing again as the kettle whistled loudly on the stove. Arman hustled over to it and filled a cup to the brim.

"Drink this. It'll help your throat.", he softly said as he handed Sylvia the steaming cup. She lightly sipped the tea and her wheezing subsided.

"I almost forgot! I stopped at this magic shop on the way home. A man there said he'd help me improve my act!", he excitedly said.

"What man?" Sylvia curiously asked as she took another sip from the piping cup.

"A magician. His name is Harry Houdini. I've seen him do incredible things.", Arman revealed.

"And when are you supposed to meet him?", she inquired.

"Tomorrow. He gave me his address.", Arman replied. Sylvia looked up at him and gave a smile.

"Then you better get some sleep, shouldn't you?", she asked with a chuckle. "Go on, I'll be fine here for the night.", she said and waved her hand for him to go. Arman kissed her forehead and bid her goodnight and closed his bedroom door behind him. He sat at the edge of his bed, removing his shoes. He laid back and recounted the days events. A relaxed sigh worked it's way out of his chest. Before he knew it, he was fast asleep.

A sliver of sunlight rested over the walls of Arman's room. A flock of birds congregated in a tree just outside of the room's window, chirping loudly. Arman groggily opened his eyes and stretched himself awake. He sat up in his bed and yawned. The young man laced up his shoes and quietly entered the living room. Sylvia still sat in her chair, snoring deeply. Arman adjusted her blanket before retrieving his shoulder bag and left the building. As usual, the street was bustling with people going about their lives. Arman pulled the folded slip of paper from his pocket.

'278 West 113th Street' it read. Arman knew the street name well, having passed through a few times a month when he would perform for crowds in the summer. He began his trek across town, knowing he had a long walk ahead of him.

The sun now sat directly over head, hugging Arman with it's warmth in the chilly spring air. Finally reaching his destination, he became a bit nervous. He approached the wooden door of the large brown building. He raised his hand to knock, but hesitantly withdrew. The boy paused before putting an ear against the door and closed his eyes. Instantly, his surroundings became much more audible. He could selectively and clearly hear chatter from a few blocks away, able to coherently understand each word. Every sound had become amplified. Behind the door he could hear Harry's characteristic accent. He spoke with a woman who sounded angered. A strange humming buzzed around the interior. Arman opened his eyes and his hearing reduced back to it's normal state. He gave three light knocks on the door.

"Just a minute!", Harry yelled from the inside. A latch clicked open and Houdini peeked from behind the door.

"Yes? Can I help you?", He asked cautiously.

"Mr. Houdini? I met you yesterday in the magic shop. You gave me your address.", Arman explained.

"Ah! I did not believe that you would show up! Please, come inside.", Harry said and opened the door wide. Arman was greeted by a comforting feeling of warmth from a fireplace that burned against a wall. Hundreds of books filled many shelves that hung around the room. To Arman's surprise, there was not a woman in sight and the eerie humming he heard had stopped. '_What could that have been about?_' he thought to himself. Harry shut the door behind him and gestured for Arman to sit in an elegant chair. He removed his shoulder bag and placed it beside the chair as he took a seat.

"Is there anything I can get you?", he courteously asked.

"No thank you, Sir." Arman answered. Houdini sat adjacent to him in another ornate chair. A short, round table fit between them. A half full glass of some kind of golden liquid was placed in the center. A tall bottle containing the rest of the liquid stood next to it.

"So what exactly is it that you want to do?", Harry questioned as he sipped from the glass.

Arman fidgeted anxiously with his hands.

"Well, I would like to have my own show. You know, like on stage, I mean.", he timidly said, afraid of being denied of his only chance to fully realize his dream.

Houdini fell silent. His hands were clasped together, his index fingers up to his mouth, unblinking. He studied Arman providently. His heart skipped a beat.

"Do you understand what you're asking for?", Harry solemnly asked. In fact, Arman did know exactly what he asked. Had he acquired the knowledge, resources, and proper training to educate himself with, he would have started years ago, but with so little to work with, he knew it would never happen, not without help from a real, experienced Illusionist.

"This is more than simple card tricks, what I do is dangerous, some may call it insane. It takes years of diligent exorcizes to master this discipline. What makes you believe you have the necessary skill to attempt such a unique art form?", he pried at Arman.

"I know it's hard work, but I'm willing to do anything to get me going. Please, Mr. Houdini, I'll do whatever it takes. I've dreamed of an opportunity like this my whole life.", Arman begged. Harry leaned back in his chair, again growing silent while twiddling his thumbs. He could see the honest desperation in Arman's dark brown eyes.

"Alright. I will do it. Show up here three times a week starting tomorrow, we've got much work to do.", he ordered as he stood up. Arman's face lit up with joy. How exciting! Finally, a true chance at becoming a real magician; standing in the freezing rain outside would be a thing of the past! Harry reached for a short lock box off a shelf above his chair. He opened it and handed a small wad of money to Arman.

"Here, take this and get a suit. If you're going to act like a magician, you'll have to look like one as well.", he said with a grin.

Arman profusely thanked him for his generosity and headed for the door.

"Oh, one more thing before I forget.", Houdini said gesturing for Arman to stop. He quickly retrieved a white hat box adorned with a blue ribbon from a tight closet and handed it to Arman.

"What's this?", he asked holding the box in his hands.

"A gift to me from my brother. His tastes are not the same as mine.", Houdini laughed as he shook his head. "You'll look much better in it that I ever will. Enjoy it.", he patted Arman roughly on his back and escorted him out of his home. After exchanging farewells, Arman stood on the porch, recollecting the events that had just occurred. He couldn't believe it. His wildest dreams, finally closer to becoming a reality. It was too good to be true. Elated, he tugged at the blue ribbon and removed the lid of the mysterious white box. A beautiful white fedora hat fit snugly inside. A black ribbon and bow accented the crown. Smitten with his new hat, he swapped his fathers flat cap and stored it safely in the box. Feeling incredibly jubilant, Arman pridefully strutted home.


	4. Chapter 4: Clandestine Memoirs

**Chapter 4: Memoirs of a Clandestine Antiquity **

Date: 14 July 1909 (18 years old)

The cold splash of water felt refreshing over Arman's face. He reached for a dry cloth that hung over his wash bowl. As he dried himself he admired his patchy facial hair in the mirror. A reminder of how father often kept a full, thick beard. Perhaps one day, his too could be just as rich. He ambled to his room and threw on his best outfit; a pair of charcoal gray dress pants tailored specifically for his legs, a lighter shaded gray button up shirt tucked into his trousers with a white suit jacket complete with a deep red neck tie. He slipped on his polished black oxfords and finished his outfit with one of his favorite possessions, the white and black fedora hat.

The apartment felt comfortably quiet, albeit lonely without mother strolling from room to room as usual. Arman always hated how often she worked. Most days were spent counting the interminable moments until she would arrive home when he hadn't spent all morning training at Harry's. The past couple of years had become something of a rhythm for Arman. Performing for pedestrians kept him busy on the days he wasn't perfecting his skills. But nothing made him more happy than coming home to his loving mother. Some days he'd be greeted with the heavenly scent of her homemade dinner, other times he would have a kettle of hot tea ready for her to enjoy. Although he could do nothing to stop her constant coughing, Arman did whatever he could to keep his mother pleased and comforted.

Before leaving, Arman assured the apartment was clean and in line in case mother happened to arrive early. He secured every window and double checked the locked door and began his frequent travel to Harry's. The summer heat radiated from the scorching sidewalk making the long walk even more miserable. By the time Arman arrived upon the familiar brick porch, a wide patch of sweat had formed across Arman's back. He lightly tapped at the wooden door with a middle knuckle, usually loud enough for Houdini to hear. A few moments passed without an answer. Growing impatient, Arman knocked more firmly. Another minute passed without a response. Arman briefly removed his hat to wipe away a small bead of sweat from his forehead.

"Harry? Are you going to let me in?", Arman called out. Again receiving no reply. He reached for the handle. It hadn't been the first time Harry couldn't hear the door. Luckily for Arman, he left it unlocked quite often. His luck held out as he slowly opened the door and peeked inside, again calling out for Houdini.

"It's Arman! Where are you?", he hollered into the house. Arman curiously allowed himself inside. It was strange that Harry would leave his home open and unattended in the middle of the afternoon, unusual even for a man as forgetful as Houdini.

Arman could feel something amiss throughout the house, something different. What was it? Arman stood in still silence in the middle of the living area when all of a sudden, something sprang to his attention.

_'That humming noise! It's here again! But where is it coming from?', _he questioned himself as he spun around the room frantically. The answer had to be there somewhere. Perhaps behind the dozens of books clumped against the wall. Arman began quickly pacing from one area to another hoping to isolate the location of the eerie sound.

_'Wait, I got it!'_ , he exclaimed to himself. He squeezed his eyes shut and concentrated as hard as he could on his surroundings. Suddenly the sound began to grow louder in clarity as every other noise began to fade into the background. Arman used his talent to rapidly pinpoint the spot producing the humming.

_'There!'_, he turned towards a large poster of Harry himself promoting one of his many New York shows that hung framed between two shelves fully stocked with books. A ghostly golden glow pulsed behind the picture. Arman became frightened. Where had he seen that glow before? It was so familiar but seemed to escape his mind. He heedfully approached the poster and reached out. The light pulsed brighter and faster the closer he came. Before he could touch the frame, the front door loudly swung open, causing a startled Arman to nearly topple over. It was Harry, whose suit had become drenched in sweat from the summer heat and carried a box full of books. He seemed surprised to see Arman in his home.

"Arman! How in the world did you get in here?", he shockingly asked as he plopped his box of books on the closest chair.

"Your door was open. Where have you been?", Arman queried a panting Houdini.

"The bookstore, where else would I be?", he slightly cocked his head to Arman who studied him carefully.

"Harry, why was your theater performance poster lighting up like a candle stick in the dead of winter?", Arman demanded to know. Harry paused as he quietly examined the framed picture, appearing as though he was searching for a quick answer. Arman grew suspicious.

"Ah that! The sunlight bounces from the window, to the glass table and onto the wall. That must have been what you were seeing. It happens quite often in this old place mostly in my bedroom.", he justifiably responded. Arman had no interest in believing such a blatant lie, but knew there was no way Harry would reveal the truth at this moment. He decided to let it go for the time being considering the glow had vanished and the humming once again ceased.

"If you say so, then I'll leave it at that. It's much too hot to argue.", Arman faked a tiny smile. Although he agreed to forget about the situation for now, he and Harry both knew deep down that it wasn't the last they'd hear of it. Arman was determined to draw the truth from him one way or another. The two gentlemen proceeded about the rest of their routine as usual without another word regarding the incident.

The sun had set in the evening sky as Arman leisurely hiked his way back across town. He began to scramble for clues in his mind as to what Harry could possibly be hiding from him.

_'Why would he have a reason to keep a secret from __me__?'_, he asked himself. Arman had never given anybody a reason to hide things from him let alone Houdini. Although he was thoroughly bewildered by the days occurrences, Arman felt compelled to unveil the veracity surrounding Harry's sunlight claims. When the best opportunity to do so was the biggest problem on his mind.

The days passed and another week had flown by without any more mysterious happenings at Harry's house. Arman's magic courses had become more intricate and complicated as he moved onto learning many different variations of escapes, the newest being the infamous straight jacket.

"Come on, Arman. You can do this!", Houdini encouraged Arman as he struggled to remove an arm from the jacket. He wriggled around the living room like a mad man. He grunted and panted while thrusting his shoulders repeatedly at an attempt to loosen a sleeve. Several moments full of cursing and grunting passed before he finally freed an arm. Using his newly freed hand, he unlatched a series of clamps constricting his right arm. What seemed like an eternity for Arman had finally come to an end as he whipped the jacket to the ground and threw his hands up in a triumphant manner while Harry applauded him. He slumped down in a chair and took a long swig from a glass of water.

"I knew it. I knew it from the moment I saw you in the shop. You are a born natural, Arman.", Houdini praised as he poured himself a drink.

"It means a lot, Harry. Really, it does. I wouldn't be able to do the things I've learned without you.", Arman said appreciatively. A sudden stinging sensation worked up his arm.

"Ouch. Son of a -", he whimpered as he clutched at the pain. A lengthy scrape had appeared down his forearm. It slowly began to trickle a bead of blood.

"Must have caught yourself on a latch. Don't feel embarrassed. Used to happen to me dozens of times when I began learning escapes myself.", Harry recalled. "Let me grab you a bandage.", he stood up but Arman politely declined his offer.

"I have my own for just such an occasion, no need to waste yours.", Arman insisted as he reached into his shoulder bag. It had been well over a year before he began to swing himself back into the habit of carrying his essentials with him again. The tattered bag had seen better days but Arman still found use out of it. He dipped a hand deep into the bag full of random trinkets and papers.

"I know it's in here somewhere.", he muttered as he finagled around the bottom of the bag. Crumbs from old sandwiches and clumps of dust stuck to his fingers. He felt around until he touched something odd. It was cold and hard, like metal. He quickly realized what it was without removing it.

_'The tube! __That's__ where I remembered the glowing from!'_, he thought to himself. He became discerned that whatever was hiding behind the wall had to be somehow connect to the tube.

"Can you find them? Or should I grab my own?", Houdini asked concernedly. Arman fidgeted around the bag again until he stumbled upon some old rags.

"Ah, here we go. Perfect.", he said as he removed the rags and fashioned a bandage around his bleeding arm. He began to feel uneasy. Originally having no immediate intention to draw up a conversation about the light, he started scanning his mind for a way to push the truth out of Harry.

Arman leaned forward and clasped his hands together. His gaze never lifted off of the floral designed carpet. He spoke softly.

"Harry. I really need to know about what it is that's behind that picture.", he pried. Terrified of angering Houdini, he refused to look up.

"What? I don't believe I understand what you're talking about.", Harry lied.

"That light, Harry. I know what I saw and I know that you're keeping something important from me. I need to know what it is.", Arman dictated. Houdini became irritated. His accent grew much more thick as he spoke.

"It isn't any of your business, Arman. There isn't any cause for concern that involves you and I would appreciate it if you would not tell me what I should be doing.", he growled as he rose from his chair. Arman secretly slipped the tube from his bag into his pocket before rising from his seat as well. The pair stood face to face. Arman could smell the alcohol on Harry's breath as he ranted on.

"Haven't I done enough for you? A snot nosed kid with ridiculous dreams of becoming better than the great Harry Houdini! And here you are, snooping around my house, poking that nose where it doesn't belong!", he flailed his arms in a fit of rage. Even though the harsh insults hurt Arman, he didn't move a muscle.

"I have a mind to show you the front door! After everything I have taught you, _this_ is how you repay me!?", Harry shouted. Before allowing him to yell another word, Arman swiftly removed the tube from his pocket, holding it mere inches from Houdini's nose.

"Then would you mind explaining what in the hell this is?", Arman madly asked. Houdini froze in a state of utter disbelief. His eyes as wide as the moon.

"W-where... Did you get that?", Harry stammered as he reached for the object. Arman silently snatched it away before he could lay a finger on it. He raised an eyebrow, fully aware he had Houdini right where he wanted him.

"Okay. Fine. You win. I'll show you.", Harry said while throwing his hands in the air. He spun around and faced the painting. Arman relaxed his shoulders and sighed in relief of avoiding any further conflict.

"To be fair, Arman, I've been keeping this from everybody. Not just you.", Harry admitted. Arman kept his distance as Harry carefully removed the poster from the wall revealing a shelf about a foot deep embedded into the building. A large square box sat in the center. Houdini retrieved it, cradling it in his arms.

"This is perhaps the greatest secret that has been kept for centuries. Longer than you could ever imagine.", he whispered as he unlatched the lid and slowly revealed its contents. Arman's mouth dropped. Inside the box lay a large golden sphere decorated with shimmering engravings similar to the design on his strange tube. It gently pulsed the evading golden glow. It was beautiful, yet terrifying at the same moment.

"What... Is it?", Arman asked in amazement. Harry removed the sphere from the box and held it out in his hand.

"Traditionally, we call them Pieces of Eden. Created by Those Who Came Before. Their purpose? Ah... I'm afraid that answer has been lost to the test of time.", he explained. Arman's head swarmed with an overwhelming amount of questions. He stuttered as he spit them out.

"Why do you have this? What can it do? Who is this 'we'?", Arman desperately begged to know.

"I have a bit of a story to explain, Arman.", Harry reclaimed his seat with the Apple firmly planted in his lap. Arman settled in next to him and gave his full attention, eager to hear an explanation.

"It starts with two factions that have fought for longer than we have records of. The Assassins and the Templars. Have you heard any stories of either of the two?", Harry asked. Arman shook his head. Never recalling a moment he had ever heard of such a strange thing.

"Throughout the history of humanity these factions have waged many wars against each other over objects like these. Luckily for me, I have stumbled upon one given to me by a man who claimed it once belonged to Napoleon Bonaparte. Whether or not this is true, I'm afraid I cannot say. How ever I will say that it does an excellent job at creating illusions that only I can perform.", Harry cackled. Arman flinched. This was Houdini's secret? A magic orb that was capable of bending reality? It became immediately clear why he had become so popular.

"But why do they fight? Over what?", Arman curiously asked. Harry sipped from his glass before he spoke again.

"Peace and order for the most part. However, both sides have different methods of obtaining this goal. See, the Assassins work behind the curtain, always watching silently, keeping us safe. They wish for humanity to be free willed as a whole.", Harry took a breath before continuing. "But the Templars... They wish for total control. They do not have a brotherhood unlike the Assassins. They do not follow a certain set of rules, by which I mean the Assassin's Creed. They will mercilessly murder any of those who stand in their way to achieve their desire.", Houdini explained.

"Then why haven't they been stopped? Surely one of the Assassins have tried to put them out of commission.", Arman interrupted. Harry laughed.

"Boy, do you not think they have tried? There have been many notable individuals throughout history that have fought valiantly against their enemy. Here, let me show you a few.", Houdini said as he extended the Apple away from his body. The orb began to pulse brighter and emitted the familiar humming sound. Suddenly, a large blast of golden light drenched the room. Spooked, Arman quickly jumped to his feet, unaware of what to expect next. Harry still sat relaxed in his chair. The room sparkled in the glittery light. Without warning, the pieces of glitter clumped together in the center of the living area forming a detailed recreation of a tall hooded man. He posed heroically with a studying gaze, as though he was fixated on something. Arman reached out to the man, allowing his hand to pass directly through his chest.

"Wow.", he marveled at the display. "Who is this?", he asked.

"His name is Altair Ibn-La'Ahad. He was a very crucial member of the Levantine Assassins. His actions created a domino effect across the world within the brotherhood bringing new tactics and ideals to the table. Were it not for him, the Assassins would have been extinguished long ago. He passed away at the age of ninety two years old. Impressive if you ask me.", he chuckled. Arman admired Altair's outfit. It was relatively simplistic comprised of a white robe featuring a well constructed cowl. He carried many throwing knives and sheathed a sword with a hilt shaped into an eagle like fashion. He bore a strange contraption over his left arm built from metal and leather. A long sharp knife protruded from a casing that appeared to be strapped to his forearm. His left ring finger was missing. Before he could get a closer look, the model burst into the thousands of glimmering pieces and again regrouped in the center of the room, this time forming a silhouette of a much older man. His robes appeared to be darker in color and had much more elaborate decorations. This time, the face of the man was more hidden by his dark hood. Arman could make out a thick graying beard across his mouth and chin. The stranger had two of the peculiar wrist knives extracted from his hands. He was posed in a fighting stance, as though he was facing attackers.

"Ezio Auditore da Firenze.", Harry announced as Arman inspected every detail of his attire. "A rich Florentine noble from the Italian Renaissance. This man had become most famous for removing the influence of the Borgia rule throughout Rome. Many Assassins today still admire his courageous acts that could have drastically altered history had he not intervened. He followed closely in Altair's footsteps until having died at the age of sixty five.", Harry rambled on. "It would take me days to explain all that this man had accomplished in his life time.", he said. Fascinated, Arman became anxious to see who was next. The Apple again dispersed the shards around the room and quickly formed another male figure. This muscular man stood hunched, legs spread wide apart. He held a tomahawk in his right hand and an eagle shaped knife in his left. His white and blue robes appeared to be tailored in a colonial-esque fashion. Arman had recognized the style of his robes as he had seen many pictures of similar outfits in his history text book. It was clear the man was of American-Indian descent as his wardrobe contained many Native elements throughout as well as his notable facial features.

"Who's this one?", Arman asked.

"I could never pronounce his real name. Most referred to him as Connor Kenway. An Assassin born to a Templar father.", Harry said.

"What did he do?", an impatient Arman asked. Harry smiled.

"This man bravely fought for his people during the height of the American Revolution. He, with the help of his mentor, Achillies, saved the North American brotherhood from complete extinction. Once he sought to unite the Assassins and Templars, to end the bloodshed. But alas, here we are today still fighting the same ancient battles.", he said.

"Well, what became of him?", Arman inquired. Houdini shrugged.

"Your guess is as good as mine. Rumors say he married an Irish woman he recruited into his brotherhood. Others say he fought and died in the French Revolution. Nobody knows for certain.", he clarified. Arman was dissatisfied with his answer, but it couldn't be helped. One more question burned in Arman's mind that had yet to be fulfilled.

"Harry, this is the most captivating bit of magic I have ever seen, but one thing doesn't make sense. The first day I arrived here, I overheard you speaking with a woman. When you showed me into your home, there wasn't anyone but you.", he described. Houdini broke eye contact with Arman. His gaze shifted to the Apple that returned to his lap. He drew a deep breath before speaking.

"Her name is Juno.", he confessed after a few silent moments. "She spoke of the future. Of my association with the Assassins. Most importantly...", he returned his gaze to Arman and lifted a boney finger in his direction.

"She spoke of you.", he solemnly said. Arman blinked. Him? Why? What purpose could he serve here? His body became tense. Houdini went on.

"What she didn't speak of... Is your artifact.", he divulged. The boy looked at his hand that grasped the tube.

"I found it the day my father was killed.", he stated. "I think it was his. I always assumed the men I told you about that knocked me over were the same who murdered him. One of them dropped it as they ran.", he expounded.

"Only a Templar would know of the existence of such an important item.", Harry assured. Arman held back a breath. Had his family been caught in the cross fire of an age old war? Father couldn't have been an Assassin. It just didn't make sense. There had to be more to the story.

"May I see it?", Houdini softly asked. Arman nodded and handed the tube to Harry who examined it closely.

"There are only three of these known to exist in human hands. We know them simply as Cylinders. Ancient codex pages briefly mention them. They are able to imprint on one specific person, an Appointed as we know them. One who will be shown unimaginable visions of the future in time. Only the Cylinder dictates who will become an Appointed.", he elucidated.

"It stuck me with a needle when I found it.", Arman said. Harry gasped. His eyes became moist as he stepped away from Arman.

"It's you! You are an Appointed! Tell me, did you feel strange after it happened? Different?", he keenly asked as he grasped the broad shoulders of the young man.

"It uh... I passed out not long after it occurred. Ever since then, I found myself with an ability to hear things in an odd way. I can focus everything on a single sound. The world becomes louder and infinitely more clear. It's changed my life.", he disclosed.

"Just as I thought.", Harry said as he swung his hands into the air. He continued, "It is a sensation we have come to learn as Canine hearing. You know, like a dog?", Harry explained to an unimpressed Arman, "Ah never mind the name. Either way, you possess an incredible gift granted to you by the Cylinder. Many Assassins have learned an ancient ability they call Eagle Vision. It works as a visual aid in seeking out targets. Yours is much more special, however. Only two other people have had the privilege of utilizing such an amazing talent.", Harry concluded.

"So what does this mean?", Arman nervously asked. He felt a terrible pit in his stomach as he already knew what the answer was.

"Arman this isn't something to ignore. The Cylinder is pointing you in the right direction. You must become an Assassin!" Harry urged.

"What?! No. How can I help the Assassins? I'm nobody special.", Arman quickly dismissed the offer.

"But Arman, all of the signs point to you! Juno, the Cylinder, your Canine hearing. Perhaps your finding of my Apple was not by mistake after all.", Harry argued. Arman remained silent for a long time debating an answer. What if Houdini was right? What if this was all part of some age old prophecy? It seemed too strange to simply ignore.

"I'll tell you what, Harry. Let me sleep on it. I've got a lot to think about.", He answered after a moment of deep thought. Harry agreed and the two men parted their ways for the night. Arman felt exhausted after the chaos that had transpired that day. The moon shone brightly in the clear night sky over the sleeping city. Arman trudged his way home, ready to throw himself onto his bed. Arman desired to know everything he could about the struggle between the Assassins and Templars. He knew Houdini expected an answer in the morning, but Arman felt burdened with his new found information. This wasn't something he wanted. It wasn't anything that he had asked for. His thoughts weighed heavily on his mind, more-so than usual. He stopped over a puddle and studied his reflection in the dirty water. He wished Father was here to guide him. To understand him. He clenched his fists as a spike of anger shot through him. William's murderers still wandered the city. Arman felt an intense hatred for the Templars. If the Assassins sought to rid the world of such a vile scum, then maybe joining the Brotherhood was his calling all along. Arman shook off his dark thoughts, hoping to continue dealing with them in the morning. Until then, he felt entitled to a long comfortable night in his bed.


	5. Chapter 5: Traditions

**Chapter 5: Traditions**

Date: 22 July 1909 (18 years old)

The humid summer heat encased Arman in its moist environment. He hurriedly hopped up the steps to Harry's house, grateful to have finally arrived after the dreadful walk. The young man knocked loudly on the wooden door, certain Harry would have heard it.

"Coming! Just a second!", a muffled Houdini called from inside the building. Arman tapped an impatient foot.

"Harry, I'm going to melt out here!", Arman complained. "Would you mind-", Houdini suddenly swung open his door, interrupting him. He gestured for Arman to come inside.

"Thank you.", he said, relieved. Harry shut the door behind them and clapped his hands together. A cheeky smile had stretched across his face. Arman knew what was coming next.

"So, have you decided yet?", he asked. Arman placed his hands on his hips, his gaze briefly fixed upon the floor before slowly shifting up to Harry's eyes.

"You've convinced me, Harry. I'll do it. I'll join this secret Brotherhood of yours.", he said, curling his lips.

"Perfect! Then we must hurry. We have no time to waste here!", Houdini excitedly said as he quickly retrieved his suit coat from a closet. Arman let his hands fall to his side.

"Wait, what? Where are we going?", the confused boy asked.

"You'll see. It's very important that we leave now. Come, we'll take a coach.", he said as he ushered Arman out of his home. Before he knew it, they were settled in a coach, headed to Harry's mysterious destination. The short ride was over faster than Arman had expected. As they exited the coach, the young man knew exactly where they were.

"The magic shop?", a perplexed Arman asked. Harry walked at a brisk pace, urging Arman to keep up.

"Follow me. It's right this way.", he insisted. The duo entered the small shop and headed straight for the register. Francis welcomed Harry as usual.

"Pleasure to see you again, Mr. Weiss.", he greeted as the two men shook hands. "Are we ready to begin the initiation?", he asked as his eyes met Arman's. Harry nodded.

"What initiation? What's going on?", Arman frustratingly questioned. Francis gave a wheezy laugh.

"You'll find out in a minute. Come on.", he instructed as he lead the two into a room at the back of the store. A large round table stood at the center with several men of various ages crowding around it. The stench of cigarettes lingered in the air. Francis wished Harry good luck and returned to the register, leaving the two alone with the copious amount of strangers. Houdini put his arm around Arman's shoulders as he introduced the young man to the crowd.

"Arman, I am proud to introduce you to this talented bunch. Each person you see here belongs to what we call the Society of American Magicians, of which I hope to one day become the president of. Some of these men have traveled a tremendously long way to be here for this very moment.", Harry explained. After properly acquainting himself with each person in the room, Arman began to relax. A man whose name had been established as Howard Thurston whispered in Harry's ear. He nodded agreeably before returning attention back to Arman.

"Are you ready to be inducted into the Brotherhood, my boy?", Houdini cheerfully asked. Arman wrinkled his brow.

"Brotherhood? I thought you were all magicians?", Arman questioned.

"Ah, magicians, jugglers, fire eaters, sure! But there's more to it than that. These men are the last of a rare organization of Assassins. Magic and the Brotherhood work together better than most could imagine. Who else better to disappear into the night than a man whose job it is to create such illusions?", Houdini proposed. Arman silently agreed. An older, soft voiced man whom Harry had clarified as Imro Fox spoke up.

"It's been a long time since our fellowship has encountered an Appointed.", he said. Arman instantly knew Harry had blabbed his secret to the group.

"You told them?" Arman irritatedly asked.

"Of course! It isn't every day someone of such significance strolls our way.", he said as he took his seat. It bothered Arman that Harry would do such a thing without his consent or even informing him of doing so. But it couldn't be helped. Harry nudged Howard to move forward with the ceremony. Arman stood at the foot of the table, all eyes focused on him.

"Arman Vernon Adler. Harry has spoken highly of you these past months. Are you prepared to enter our fold and become an Assassin?", he asked. Arman drew a breath before speaking.

"Y-yes.", he nervously answered.

"And are you willing to uphold the three tenants of our Creed? Rules of our brotherhood passed down for generations that act as guidelines for our duty to fight back against the Templars," Thurston explained.

"Tenants?", Arman queried. Harry had briefly mentioned the Creed before, but failed to elaborate on the exact details.

"One, always stay your blade from the flesh of an innocent. We are Assassins, not monsters, and we intend to keep it that way.", he went on. "Two, hide in plain sight. As a magician, this should come naturally. Think of it as sleight of hand... With your whole body.", he described. "And three, never compromise the Brotherhood. Should you find yourself in hot water, it is your issue and yours alone. Do not reveal our locations or our brothers under any circumstance. Have I made myself clear?", he authoritatively asked.

"You forgot one.", Arman cockily replied. Howard raised an eye brow at the boy.

"Mundus vult decipi.", Arman said. The men glanced at each other in confusion.

"What?", Howard grumpily asked. Arman repeated himself.

"Mundus vult decipi, ergo decipiatur. It's Latin for 'The world wants to be deceived, so let it be deceived'. My father used to say it often.", he recalled. Thurston snickered.

"I like it. Welcome to the Brotherhood, Arman. You are officially an Assassin.", he congratulated as he handed a small box containing a silver clip molded into the shape of the Assassin crest to him.

"Your training will begin tomorrow, here at eight in the morning. This man, Signor Deadato, will be your mentor.", he patted Signor on the back who sat arms crossed with a smug smirk across his face. His face was rugged and muscular while his hair was long enough to reach the center of his back. He wore an embellished dress shirt with shimmering detail along the sleeves.

"For now, Harry will have you acquire your equipment.", he concluded. Arman thanked his new brothers for the warm welcome and assured them of his arrival tomorrow. He and Houdini promptly retreated from the shop, the sun stood high in the afternoon sky. Harry handed Arman an envelope.

"Here, take this and head to the black smith over on Columbus Avenue. I have an order waiting for you. I've got a show to perform tonight, come and see me after your training tomorrow.", He instructed Arman before quickly departing. The young man wasted no time as he hastily trekked his way through the town. Once inside the building, a large bearded burly man was behind the counter, hammering away at hot metal.

"Excuse me!", Arman interrupted, gaining his attention. The man removed his gloves and set aside his tools. He was covered in a black dust and smelled of fire.

"Yes sir, what can I do for you?", the bulky man politely asked with a gravely voice.

"I have an envelope from Harry Houdini for you. He sent me to retrieve an order.", he told as he handed the man his letter.

"Ah yes, Harry's boy. Just a minute, I'll get it for you.", he said as he disappeared into the back room of his work shop. Clanking of metal and crinkling of papers loudly echoed through the room. Moments later, the man returned holding two strange metal contraptions with leather straps. A couple of rings dangled from a thin wire attached to the metal. Arman recognized them as similar to the items the Assassins wielded that the Apple had displayed.

"Two hidden blades made specifically for Mr. Adler.", he said as he laid them on the counter top.

"How do they work?", Arman curiously asked as he strapped one to his right arm.

"Well, there are many different mechanisms. I prefer the ring pull. Give it a try.", the hulking man insisted. Arman slipped the ring onto a finger and gave a flick of his wrist. The blade quickly shot into place with a metallic '_schlink!'. _The blade was beautiful. It had been given a deep purple hue with an elaborate floral design. The housing that concealed the blade included an embossing of an Assassin crest with an incorporation of a spade inside of it. The most interesting part, however, had been the gorgeous puff of thick milky white smoke that crept out from the housing. It was menacingly attractive.

"Wow. This is amazing.", Arman said, admiring the incredible craftsmanship.

"Harry said it was for a magician so I took some liberties of my own and added something a little more spooky. Enjoy it, kiddo", the giant man said as he resumed his work.

"If you need something else, the name's Pat. I'm always here.", he graciously assured. Arman thanked Pat and hustled his way home. Although he almost never kept a secret from mother, he knew she would detest against him owning such harmful weapons. Arman decided this particular instance of lying would be acceptable for now. A warm feeling of accomplishment had washed over his mind. The sooner he could begin his training as an Assassin, the sooner he would get the much sought after answers surrounding father's mysterious death. The thought of closure gave him comfort and left his mind at ease. He knew the path he chose would not be easy, but knew that it was a choice that had to be made. Arman decided to put aside his thoughts for the day and enjoy what remained of his personal free time.


	6. Chapter 6: Priority Shift

**Chapter 6: Priority Shift**

Date: 7 September 1909 (18 years old)

It had been an excruciatingly long couple of months for Arman almost entirely comprised of continuous training. His hand to hand combat techniques improved significantly in a span of two fatigued weeks along with a brief – yet exhausting – building scaling tactics lesson. His muscles constantly ached. His hands grew calloused from the rigorous climbing. The feeling of clothes damp with sweat never became any easier to ignore. Signor had been quite the mentor. Although Arman desired to know more about his mentor's personal life, he seldom expatiated on his experiences outside of the Brotherhood. An Italian fire eating magician was all he would reveal to the novice Assassin. Despite this, Arman continued to learn and grow from the confidential man. He became accustomed to wearing his hidden blades at all times except when in his home. Mother had absolutely no knowledge of Arman's recent involvement with the Assassins. The constant lies began to weigh heavily on his conscious, but he continued to keep his secret safe, for now. He had begun to see less of his magic partner in recent weeks due to his training. On occasion, Harry would check in on the young man, making sure all was well and hoping that Signor hadn't worked him to the bone. Arman missed spending most of his time with Harry as he felt most comfortable around him. Feeling a bit lonely, he decided to swing by the performance theater after practice where he knew Houdini had a show scheduled that night.

"Excuse me, sir. May I please speak with Harry?", Arman politely asked the theater's doorman. The strong man didn't appear too friendly.

"Is he expecting you?", he asked.

"Well, not exactly. I'm a real good friend of his if you'll just ask -", he wasn't given a chance to finish.

"Unless Mr. Houdini notifies me of a guest appearance, you're not getting in here, Pal.", he rudely interrupted. Without another word, Arman decided to remove himself from the situation before he said something he'd regret.

_'Well if he's not going to let me in, I'll have to do it my way.', _he thought to himself. He examined the tall building for any point of entrance. An opened window on the third level caught his eye. It was quite a ways up. Arman began his careful ascent on a few loose bricks in the wall. He swiftly and cautiously progressed his way to the window. The cool September breeze felt wonderful as it encompassed his warm body. After several moments of climbing, he finally reached the window and silently sneaked inside. The familiar applause of an audience resonated throughout the building. Luckily, no stage crew had spotted the young Assassin just yet.

_'One of these curtains has to be his. Just have to focus a bit.'_, he told himself. With much concentration, his Canine Hearing caught a familiar voice humming an unknown tune.

_'Fourth one on the right, it's gotta be him!', _he assured himself. Quietly, he approached the suspected room and peered inside. As expected, there stood Houdini, humming and combing his hair in front of a mirror. Arman peeled back the red curtain and allowed himself into the room.

"Harry!", Arman happily greeted. Surprised, Harry shuddered and dropped his comb at the unexpected man's arrival.

"Buh!", A frightened Houdini exclaimed. "Arman? What the Hell do you think you're doing in here?!" he asked, startled.

"Oh you know, just thought I'd come out and see the show tonight since I had nothing better to do.", Arman joked. Harry sighed.

"Look, I was going to wait until next week, but if you're this desperate for things to do, then I have a job for you.", he said.

"Sure, I'll do damn near anything at this point.", Arman accepted, confident he could handle anything Harry had to offer. The older man fiddled through some drawers until he found a crinkled envelope. A wax stamp pressed with an Assassin crest sealed it shut.

"Bring this to Signor. He'll explain everything to you. After you've finished, come see me.", he instructed. Arman nodded and safely secured the envelope in a jacket pocket. "I'm sorry, Arman, but I have to cut this lovely visit short. I'm about to go on.", he apologized as he adjusted his black bow tie. He bid farewell to Arman and made his way passed the curtain. "I'll see you in a few days, take care.", he said as he closed the curtain behind him. Before Arman could leave, Harry reappeared. "Oh, and do not sneak up on me like that again, Boy. You'll give me a heart attack!", he scolded before turning to leave. Arman couldn't help but smile. He could hear the announcer introduce Harry to the stage. Arman exited the theater through the front door. The discourteous doorman's angry expression turned to a look of bewilderment as he watched Arman stroll passed. Without hesitation, the young boy disappeared into the dimly lit streets of the night, ready to begin what Houdini had sent him to accomplish.

Arman had met with Signor the next day in the cramped back room of the small magic shop. His mentor silently read the letter before briefing Arman over their objective.

"So what's going on? Who's my first target?", Arman arrogantly asked.

"A railroad executive. Edward Henry Harriman. Apparently one of our spies witnessed his men smuggling weapons and supplies from New York to Chicago. He's been known to work closely with Templars. We've never really considered him a threat, but it seems we might have been wrong.", he clarified. He continued, "We can't allow him to enable those bastards. We'll have to remove him. He was last seen at his home in Orange County just a few days ago, a place he calls Arden.", he said.

"Orange County? That's at least a days trip away from here.", Arman noticed. Signor nodded.

"It is. We leave tonight. Meet me back here at dusk.", he ordered and allowed Arman to leave. He wasted no time carrying himself home. Once he arrived, he felt relieved to have made it back before Mother. He plopped himself down on the living room sofa and relaxed for a few moments. An irritating thought itched away at him. Although he had been inducted into the Assassins, he felt as though something was missing. What was it? The clothing? Weapons? Something each of the Apple's holograms had in common, that much Arman was sure. After several moments of careful analysis of his memory, he finally realized what he struggled to figure out. Each of the men depicted wore hoods fashioned with a beaked tip. However, it had occurred to him that none of the Assassins at his ceremony stuck with the retired tradition. He felt determined to change that. Quickly, he tore through his room until he came across an old white shirt he had acquired as a child. Satisfied with the material, he sifted through a kitchen drawer until he came across Mother's needle and thread. Within fifteen tedious minutes, he had constructed a subtle, sturdy beak attached to the brim of his white fedora hat. Arman felt a sense of pride as he admired his creation. With his outfit finished, Arman decided to pass the remainder of the day with a nap.

Arman awoke just as the sun began to set in the darkened sky. He found Mother in the kitchen with her arms elbow deep in warm soapy water. Arman was careful to avoid revealing his secret. Instead he explained that Harry had requested him to spend the night at his house to work on an intense magic routine. Sylvia understood and wished him good luck. With a paper bag packed with a sandwich and a kiss on his forehead, Arman left his mother for the night and promised to return as soon as he could. The bustling city sounds had been reduced to distant conversations and the territorial barking of dogs. The air felt calm and peaceful. It hadn't taken long before Arman arrived at the shop. Signor had been out front, finishing a conversation with Francis as he closed up for the night. Arman greeted the two men and soon they were in Signor's personal carriage headed straight to Orange County. Arman had hoped that with the wise man isolated for a longer period of time, Signor would finally open up about his personal life, but as expected, Signor remained serious and stoic much of the time. With no way to stir up conversation with his mentor, Arman figured it'd be best to get some sleep before they arrived.

The carriage rattled violently as it hit a bump, jostling Arman awake. The sun crept up into the morning sky as he yawned and took in his surroundings. Signor still sat straight faced watching attentively at every building they passed.

"Have you been awake all night?", Arman asked, concerned.

"Don't worry about me. I have enough energy.", he replied. The coach came to a halt and the two men removed themselves from the interior. Arman placed his fedora snugly on his head. Signor stared at the beak.

"What?", asked Arman.

"Cute.", Signor sarcastically complimented. Arman didn't appreciate the light joke.

"So where are we?", Arman asked, ignoring his rude response.

"The village of Harriman, named after the man we're seeking. Arden is only a couple miles from here, but we'll have to walk the rest of the way since we'll need to keep the carriage hidden. Come on, there's no time to waste over here." Signor commanded. Thankful for his rest, Arman felt up to the journey and the two began their trek.

A long hour had past as Arman trudged his way behind Signor who still marched at a brisk pace. He felt as though they would never arrive. He was ready to give up.

"Look, Kid. We're here.", Signor announced. Arman sparked back to life as he dashed up the gravel road to his mentor's side. An enormous mansion filled his field of vision. Grandiose stair cases provided various entrances into different sections of the building. A beautiful garden accented the backyard.

"He's in there, somewhere.", Signor assured.

"How will we get in? It doesn't look like anyone's around.", Arman realized.

"There, a window on the west wing's third floor. Let's get over there before we're spotted.", he said as he darted across the yard with Arman in hot pursuit. The two hunkered against a wall and silently listened for any movement. Arman began to feel nervous about the danger of getting caught. He feared having to compromise the mission.

"We need to get up there. Remember those climbing sessions we practiced? Time to see it pay off, Kid.", his mentor whispered. Arman nodded and the pair began their ascent into the mansion. Each leap was full of grace as Arman hastily made his way up to the window. His mentor had already entered before he reached the top. He heard a pained grunt following a thump. He became worried. Once he entered, Signor stood in the room of what appeared to be an office. A man lay sprawled in the middle.

"Who the hell is this? I thought there wouldn't be any guards!", Arman loudly whispered in alarm.

"He must have been expecting us. Come on, let's go before he wakes up.", Signor quietly urged while sneaking out of the room. Echoing voices could be heard within the hallway. It made it hard to pinpoint precisely where they were located. A deep male voice floated through the walls.

"That's him. But where is the bastard?", Signor wondered. Arman calmed his thoughts before activating his Canine Hearing. It took only moments before he was hot on Edward's trail.

"This way!", Arman softly exclaimed. The two made their way to the corner of the hall. Arman peered around the edge, seeing a young woman exit the very room Edward could be heard from. A split second of fear caused Arman's heart to skip a beat before realizing she wasn't headed his way. He grew antsy as he waited for her to disappear downstairs. Finally seeing a clear chance to move, the two surrounded the door that had been left open just a crack. Signor quietly nudged the door open further revealing an elegant bedroom. Edward sat at a dark corner desk, writing.

"Remember, don't think about it. Just do it.", Signor reminded Arman. The young Assassin's throat had become dry, causing him to swallow hard. He slowly and silently crept up to the man who had yet to notice him. He came closer until he stood directly behind him. A brief moment of reconsideration struck Arman as he turned back to Signor across the room who nodded for him to continue. Knowing he had no choice this far in, Arman extended his hidden blade which released the ghostly puffs of smoke with a sharp '_schlink!_' and buried it deep in the Templar's back through the gaps of the chair. The man desperately gasped and lurched over in pain. Arman stepped back as the man tumbled from his chair and onto the ground. The victim had not looked like a vile murderer, instead he had been an elderly man with a humble appearance. A thick graying mustache hid his upper lip. He bared his teeth as he clutched at his back in immense pain.

"W-why? What have I done?", he begged to know through agonizing breaths.

"I-I", Arman stuttered as he felt a wave of guilt wash over him.

"The Assassins are aware of your collaboration with the Templars, Harriman." Signor berated. "Your smuggling days are finished, there will be no more weapons brought to the Order." he angrily said. "Let's not pretend you didn't know, you've got guards protecting the place.", he concluded.

"You-you don't understand! They _forced _me to do it! T-they threatened my family! Those guards weren't for you Assassins!" he tried to explain. Blood began to seep across the carpet.

"It's too late for explanations, Ned. It's over.", Signor solemnly said. The old man groaned in his excruciating suffering. The mentor ended Harriman's terrible torment with a blade to his neck.

"Someone's bound to come with all the noise. Let's make our escape.", he instructed to a horrified Arman. The two Assassins promptly left the mansion as fast as they could. The carriage ride home seemed to drag on as Arman couldn't lay his feelings to rest. Was this how becoming an Assassin should feel? Will it ever get easier? His mind was in a twist and Signor made no attempt to comfort him.

It had been a tremendous relief to finally arrive home. Arman knew Harry must have been wondering about him. Before heading back to the apartment, he raced over to Houdini's and rapped at his door. Harry greeted him with open arms as usual.

"Arman! Tell me, did everything go alright?", he curiously pried. Arman stood with his hands at his hips, gazing at the foot of the door way. A silent moment passed before he panned up to Harry's eyes.

"I think I need more training...", he admitted.


	7. Chapter 7: Smoke Break

**Chapter 7: Smoke Break**

Date: 21 July 2014

I rubbed my eyes as I sat up in the Animus chair. My consciousness fully returned and I finally felt like myself again. The humming of the computers and generators broke the stagnant silence. Lio seemed surprised to see me out of my coma like state.

"Hey, hey! What the Hell do you think you're doing?" he irritatedly asked. I was well aware of our time issue, but didn't want to push my body any harder than I already had. I already grew a bit of a headache and was not in the mood for an argument.

"I need a break. Just let me get some air, I'll be right back.", I passively said. I brought myself to my feet and regained my sense of balance.

"What?! A break? It's only been a couple hours, Logan. You can hold out for a bit longer.", he suggested. Somehow, Lio always manages to find a way to piss me off about something. I wasn't about to let him order me around the entire night.

"Look, Asshole, you're not the one with the Bleeding Effect, alright? If I wanna take a break then you better know damn well and good that I will.", I declared. "Where's Annora?" I asked.

"Exploring or something, I dunno. You know Abstergo is coming for us, right? It won't be long before they figure out we're here. Believe me, you don't want to know what'll happen if they catch us. So, I think it'd be in all of our best interests if you sat your ass back down and finished our project.", he demanded with a raising voice. I couldn't take his smart ass remarks anymore, I had to leave before I made a mistake.

"That's it. I don't need to take this shit from a fat Hawaiian. I'm sick of dealing with you and Criss Angel over here.", I angrily stated as I pointed to the Animus. I promptly left the room without giving Lio a moment to respond. I stormed my way down the dark hallway until I noticed a door that had been recently pried open. I cautiously peered inside, assuming whoever opened it was still hanging around.

"Annora?", I softly called out. Without a response, I became concerned. My hidden blade made its characteristic '_vip!_' sound as I activated it. Although I was ready for a fight, I had been greeted to another empty room. Nothing seemed disturbed until I came across an opened window in the living room. A bloody hand print was placed on the siding. My heart pounded hard. I prayed that Annora was alright, where ever she was. I curiously poked my head out of the complex and looked left, coming face to face with a long rusted ladder running up the remainder of the building. Without a second thought, I found myself quickly climbing to the roof. When I reached the top, I could see Annora's familiar silhouette sitting at the edge of the building. I was careful not to surprise her.

"Hey, are you okay? I saw some blood on the window down there.", I said. She let out a small gasp and turned her head away from me as I sat beside her, completely avoiding eye contact. She cleared her throat before speaking. Something didn't feel right.

"I'm fine. I just cut my hand on a piece of wood when I broke the door open.", she said through a stuffy nose. I reached for her hand to see for myself. Before I could get a look, she snatched herself away from me.

"No! Don't touch it! I already bandaged it. I'm okay.", she assured. I caught a glimpse of her puffy hazel eyes. It became painfully apparent she had been crying.

"What's wrong? Why are you upset?", I gently asked. It wasn't like her to act this out of character. Something must have happened.

"It's nothing. Don't worry about it.", she insisted as she wiped her eye with the sleeve of her purple shirt. The gleaming moon stood proudly in the clear night sky, illuminating her beautiful dark red hair. A police siren wailed in the distance. The gorgeous Chicago skyline appeared as a painting before us, twinkling.

"Oh come on. Every guy knows that when a woman says not to worry about something, we need to worry about it. You can tell me.", I promised. I had developed something of a crush on her not long after we first met, however, I didn't dare speak of it. Our mentor had profusely warned us about the dangers of relationships within the Brotherhood.

"Logan, really. I'm fine.", she said through a smile. "How is your session coming along? Anything interesting?", she asked, changing the subject. I decided to give it up for the moment and play along.

"Nothing more than the usual. Except... It's strange. Usually I have some kind of acquaintance with my thoughts still. My consciousness. But with Arman, it's almost like I really am him. His memories are so clear, so vivid. Every emotion is so genuine and powerful. I haven't experienced anything like it before.", I admitted.

"Its most likely to do with him being in the recent past. We don't have to go back very far in time to retell his story. The closer to the present you are, the clearer the memory. Your Bleeding Effect symptoms probably have something to do with it as well.", she explained. Her reasoning made sense I suppose. Still, I couldn't shake the feeling that something big was coming our way. I hoped I was wrong.

"You're probably right. Even after three years of coming in and out of the Animus, it never loses that magic feeling.", I said. Annora nodded with agreement.

"You got that right.", she uttered.

"So, are you going to tell me why you were crying? Or do I have to start begging?", I joked. She sniffled and frowned.

"I really shouldn't tell you. You might think of me differently.", she debated.

"Yeah, like I'd really judge you, of all people. I'm an expert at keeping secrets.", I vowed. She sighed heavily and looked up at the stars.

"Its just... I've been thinking a lot of what happened before. What brought me here, to now.", she said.

"What, like everything that happened at the hideout? That'll blow over. We both know that.", I assumed.

"No, not that. Before the Assassins. When I was on my own. I've just been thinking a lot about it tonight.", she confessed.

"Well, I'm all ears if you need to spill it out", I ensured. She smiled at me, I knew she felt comforted knowing she had somebody to confide in during this mess.

"It started about a year after I finished high school. Back in '09. My, at the time, boyfriend and I had just moved in together. A cute little condo in the southern Chicago suburbs. I knew him since grade school. I always liked him, but we didn't date until junior year. Everything had been perfect, I finally had the life I dreamed about. Sort of like a cheesy romance movie.", she explained.

"So what happened?", I asked, slightly hurt by the boyfriend remark.

"I never really figured out where it began, but we would fight more often than we used to. Every week the arguments would get more and more vicious. Almost always over such petty things too. Things a couple shouldn't fight over. Jason was his name. Even saying it now makes me feel sick.", she cringed as she spat at thought of him.

"Why didn't you just break things off with him?", I asked, unsure if I wanted her to continue.

"Believe me, I tried. But he would always find a way to make it up to me. Like an idiot, I was stupid enough to accept him back each time. Then one day, I didn't. It happened at a cafe I used to visit when I needed some time alone. He found me there, by myself. Must've used damn near every curse word in the book at me. Everyone was staring. I left him there, embarrassed out of my mind. I'm pretty sure I blew every red light on the way home, not giving a shit about anything but laying in bed.", she recalled. Her eyes became misty again. She swallowed hard before continuing. I didn't like where this was heading.

"When I got home, he wasn't more than five minutes behind me. My dumb ass didn't think to lock the door, though it probably wouldn't have held him out for long anyway now that I think of it. He ran in, screaming at me. The neighbors must have been used to the fighting since nobody came down to stop him.", she momentarily paused and drew a deep breath. What came next made my stomach churn.

"He carried me kicking and screaming into the bedroom and slammed the door shut. I fought for my life, yelling for help as loud as I could until he covered my mouth. At that point, there was nothing I could do. I stayed still while he took advantage of me for what felt like forever. I honestly believed I was going to die. No, I _hoped_ I would... But it never happened.", she described. She choked back her tears while I gave her a comforting hug.

"Annora... I'm so sorry.", was all I could think to say. "But what does that have to do with the Assassins?", I asked out of curiosity.

"He told me that if I ever said anything to anyone, he'd kill me. I beat him to it.", she said. Taken back by her remark, I raised an eye brow at her.

"I played along with his little game for a few days before I caught my chance. I waited for his lazy ass to fall asleep before grabbing a kitchen knife in my drawer I hid the night before. Dickhead didn't even know it was coming. I made sure he wasn't saveable.", she detailed. I was speechless. I wasn't aware that she had come from such a dark background.

"Wait, if you murdered him, how come you aren't in jail right now?", I urged her to go on.

"A good friend of mine knew Jarabec, our mentor. She told him everything that was going on and he offered me a chance at a new life. A new opportunity, with the promise of keeping me off the police's radar. Before I knew it, I was wielding these blades like a pro.", she finished. It took a moment to wrap my head around everything she had told me. Even though I now knew the truth, I didn't see her any differently.

"That guy was twisted. He deserved what he got. I'll make sure nothing that horrendous happens to you again.", I swore. Her tears had stopped. She must have felt better from letting it out. She gave me a genuine smile.

"That's sweet of you, Logan.", she said. I was prepared to head back downstairs and resume my progress until she stopped me.

"Wait. You never told me how you ended up with the Assassins. You said you would when we had the chance. I think this is perfect timing, don't you?", she pushed.

"Me? Nah, it's nothing special.", I lied. To be honest, I really didn't want to talk about it, but after everything she had said, I knew there was no way around it.

"Bullshit! Everybody has some interesting stories to tell.", she caught my lie.

"Fine. But I'm not sure where I should start. I used to be a kid just like everyone else I guess. Grew up in a suburban home in North Carolina, you know, the kinds of neighborhoods where every damn house looks exactly the same? Just like that.", I began my talk.

"I had an older sister, Sam. I looked up to her. She watched over me like a hawk, we were inseparable. One day, around Easter, our parents went on vacation. Only... they never came back.", I sadly said. I felt a lump in my throat as I remembered the days events.

"What? Why?", Annora asked.

"We found out that their car had been involved in a wreck. A semi swerved into their lane and hit them head on. We later heard that the driver of the truck had been awake for almost three straight days. Fell asleep behind the wheel. My parents just had the shit luck of ending up in his grille that day.", I explained.

"After that, Sam and I ended up in an orphanage. We hated it. Everyday was torture to us. We didn't plan on sticking around. Sam found a way to escape, so we took it. We survived for a few years on the streets, pilfering food where ever we could. It wasn't exactly glamorous, but we had each other, and that's all that mattered.", I told her.

"Logan, I-I'm sorry, I didn't know-", I motioned for her to stop the apology.

"Then one day, Sam and I discovered some kind of banquet taking place. What we didn't know, was that it was in celebration of Jarabec's promotion to mentor status. We watched behind a tree as they brought in the food. It all looked so delicious. We were starving, and no longer cared if we were caught. So we sneaked in.", I said.

"Then what happened?", Annora wondered.

"He caught us sneaking out the back, arms full of food. We expected to end up right back in the orphanage, but he had been so impressed with our ability to sneak pasted several armed guards, wander through a dining hall crammed full of people, and sneak into the kitchen without anyone noticing that he decided to take us under his wing. We were brought into the Brotherhood." I revealed.

"That doesn't surprise me. He's always had a soft spot for kids." Annora certainly said. "But what happened to Sam?", she budged. I felt a pit in my stomach as I remembered everything in perfect detail.

"The Assassins had just gotten their hands on some stolen Animus's and thought they knew everything about them. Of course we didn't know any better and went right along with it. We started our search for the Pieces of Eden in our memories. When one memory didn't provide an answer, we jumped to another and another and so on. Nobody was informed that screwing around with so many memories at a single time caused the brain to lock up, in a sense. Just like what happened with Clay. My sister had it the worst. They put her in a medically induced coma until they could figure out how to fix it. I vouched to attempt to untangle her memories. They tried to stop me, saying that it was suicide, but I didn't listen. They linked my Animus with hers and I had jumped from ancestor to ancestor for two straight weeks trying to set things right. Its how I got the Bleeding Effect myself.", I elucidated. Annora never took her eyes off me, it seemed like she felt bad for asking.

"It turned out it was all for nothing. Her brain was too badly damaged along with a few others. After she died, that was when they relocated me to Detroit, with your group. I never saw her again.", I said as warm tears filled my eyes. I quickly turned away from her in embarrassment.

"Hey, don't. Its alright.", she consoled me as she gave me a caring hug. I squeezed her tightly, never wanting to let go.

"We've all lost something to get here. But at least we have each other, right?", she sympathized as she stared deeply into my eyes. I fought to resist my attraction to her, but my heart had other plans. My emotions took control and without thinking, I pressed my lips against hers. She let out a shocked sound before I felt her kiss me back, and it was at that moment that I knew she wanted this as badly as I did. I stopped as soon as I realized what I had just done.

"Shit... I-I'm sorry, I shouldn't have-", I struggled to find the right words.

"That's not something to be sorry about.", she shushed me. I wasn't sure, but I think she had known about my feelings for her prior to now.

"We should get back to Arman. What's Lio doing?", she asked.

"Being a prick like always.", I truthfully answered. She giggled.

"Did I even need to ask?", she rhetorically questioned.

A few minutes later we returned to our apartment. I felt compelled to make things right with Lio before heading back to my job.

"Lio, I shouldn't have lashed out like that at you, I was being an ass.", I said, awkwardly scratching the back of my head. Lio shook his head as he stood up.

"No, I was the jerk. Look, I shouldn't have been so bossy. It's just... I came from a broken home just like Arman, except my dad wasn't murdered, he was just a cheating shit head that walked out on us when I was only eight. I had to care for my mom just like he does. I never had much of a social life because of that, which is why I spent all my free time dicking around with electronics. Which I guess you can say is also why I gained so much weight. For fun I used to hack chat rooms and social networking sites. When my mom died, I kinda fell into a slump, disappearing off the web completely until the Assassins contacted me, offering me a job. I don't know, I guess Arman's story just resonates with me on a personal level and I need to know how it ends. That being said, it's wrong that I pushed you to keep going when I know about your condition. If you need a break, take one.", he insisted. I appreciated the apology but still felt wrong about my tantrum earlier.

"I'll be alright. When this is all over, drinks are on me. Cool?", I offered.

"I'll hold you to it. If you're ready to get back to business, I found a string of DNA that will allow us to skip a couple years ahead in Arman's life.", he discovered.

"Will I have missed anything important?", I asked.

"Not really. Oh! He acquired a retractable cane gun at some point during the winter of 1910 if that counts.", he said.

"Huh. I'll have to see it for myself.", I replied while reclining into the chair once again.

"I'll stay here so you don't have to worry about me, alright?", Annora guaranteed.

"Thanks. Also, could you make sure he saves me a Swiss cake roll this time? I saw all the wrappers in the corner, selfish.", I joked.

"I can't promise anything.", Lio remarked. I closed my eyes as I again felt the transcendent feeling of the Animus taking control of my body. The world around me warped into the white room I've come to know as the Animus Corridor. My body had become that of Arman's and I clenched as I anxiously anticipated the climax of the loading sequence. I was prepared for the next chapter of my great grandfather's life.


End file.
